


All Kinds of Different

by guileheroine



Category: Wicked - Schwartz/Holzman
Genre: College, Developing Relationship, F/F, Friendship, Jealousy, Pre-Femslash, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-26 13:15:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21374731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guileheroine/pseuds/guileheroine
Summary: Elphaba's new friendship with Galinda leaves her pondering several emotions.
Relationships: Elphaba Thropp & Galinda Upland, Elphaba Thropp/Galinda Upland
Comments: 4
Kudos: 40
Collections: Femslash Exchange 2019





	All Kinds of Different

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ariestess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariestess/gifts).

> @ariestess here is my gift for you! it's my first time participating in an exchange and i hope you find this to your satisfaction. since you asked for anything on glinda and elphaba's relationship, and i love the complexity of their dynamic, i decided to briefly touch on an aspect that i thought might be interesting (with a dose of developing feelings ofc). musicalverse, because that's all i'm familiar with.

“You should do a charity ball! Always gets people interested,” Galinda suggests, offhand, before the sight of Elphaba working draws her focus. Elphaba decides, displaying what she thinks is commendable restraint, to concentrate on her task instead of telling her that no one in all of Gillikin is going to turn up to a  _ dance  _ for Animal rights. In any case, they are both too consumed in the transformation of the withered houseplant on the desk for that particular trail of conversation to survive. Galinda’s eyes are huge and keen and not a little wondrous, a more potent distraction than her comments. 

“Amazing!” She sighs, with a soft clap of her hands.

“Are you jealous?” Elphaba says with half a mind, relishing the fruits of her effort.

“I couldn’t be, it’s too beautiful!”

The word, the feeling in Galinda’s voice, has Elphaba’s full attention all of a sudden. It makes her stomach stir and allows only for an awkward, perfunctory response to slip out.

“Well I mean, uh, exactly.” 

At last, Galinda’s gaze drops away from the musty old flowerpot. From the little sapling, dead and crisp a minute ago, that Elphaba has just magicked before their very eyes into a bulbous, gleaming succulent bright purple with life. 

“I’m not jealous, Elphie, I swear,” she sighs, a little forlorn. There’s a short laugh (too high) on the heels of the statement, before Galinda turns and swishes off to her class, leaving Elphaba to recover from the strange moment.

Once upon a time, Elphaba wouldn’t have believed such a statement because she was determined to believe the worst of Galinda always; and jealousy was, of course, a terrible trait that someone as inspicable as her would no doubt possess in excess amounts (even if it was very deep in her festering core where no one could see.) At a later time, she  _ would  _ have taken Galinda at her word, simply because it made a kind of sense deeper than Elphaba should really bother to resist anymore - what did someone like Galinda have to be jealous of her for? 

_ Now _ , however, she’s beginning to know her well enough to circle back to skepticism. It is borne of a growing understanding of her roommate this time, not the projection of Elphaba’s own hatrification and insecurity, as reluctant as she had been to admit to the latter to begin with. The point is: the recognition of Galinda’s not so saintly emotions feels different, more because Elphaba is different than because Galinda is. 

Different every day when it comes to her new friend, such that even these unperfect qualities come with a certain kind of clarity that makes them digestible, understandable - endearing even. (Is it really normal to find her so endearing?)

After all, jealousy is, of course, a perfectly human trait; and it should not be a surprise that anyone suffers it, even if Galinda is someone who takes great pains to hide such things. Knowing her as she now does, Elphaba thinks that those things that Galinda takes pains to hide tend to be all the more stark for her efforts. In any case, the comment sticks in her brain, quite a distraction. Elphaba is surprised to find how unhappy the thought of the whole thing makes her; even more surprised to find  _ why _ . To realise that her own discomfort at being the subject of jealousy is in fact far outweighed by her sheer longing that Galinda does not feel inadequate.

Elphaba cleans the pot up so it’s as shiny as the leaves, flicking her fingers to curl the rim up into a more beguiling shape. She pushes it into the line of knick knacks against the back of her desk. They look better than new, and should go down  _ fairly  _ well at the sale tomorrow, if last week’s accounts are anything to go by. The weekly fundraisers for pro-Animal activist groups are facing a lot of pushback, but there’s nothing anyone can technically do to stop them organising, even if Elphaba anticipates the worst ever more of late. But if they play their cards right (Shiz students never do miss a good sale), even with a mere handful of organisers they can raise enough to get at least the same number of disenfranchised Animals the legal advice they need.

Upglitzing all this old junk up is a clever way to turn a quick profit, and she’s been working very fast on her free evenings. Doing it in the room with Galinda though - she can’t help but notice the effect it has on her friend’s mood. Even though Galinda hasn’t made it all the way to actually  _ saying  _ ‘I wish I could help’ yet, much less ‘I wish I could do  _ that _ .’ Elphaba tries again to put it from her mind, but Galinda-thoughts are continually proving to be the hardest to shake off. Such a bother.

-

At the Friends of the Animals committee meeting last week, Elphaba had once again come up with an idea for improving the fundraisers. With the season changing, everyone is on the hunt for suitable apparel; and not everyone can afford the kind of finery that she’s seen Galinda’s friends hauling back by the sackful from the boutiques in town. There’s a demand here, prime for their affordable, eclectic supply. She gets everyone on the committee to scour their old wardrobes and the charity shops around for anything workable. And then she works on making them market ready. 

It’s bitter work. It’s not until the early hours of the morning before the next sale outside Crage Hall that she’s finished - not satisfied but altogether too exhausted to keep at it, with all the frills and trims and cuts and colours swimming before her mind’s eye, none exactly right. Too short, too long, too drab, too shiny. 

For all her sweat, and her frustration, she can’t quite be surprised when just one scarf and a beglittered belt is all that sells. What’s worse - she hears one student (hardly the picture of style, mind you) muttering something about how ugly everything on the rack is. She has to tamp down the fire on her tongue because how can she even tell if they’re wrong? She doesn’t have the eye for this. It seems as though anyone can see it’s all unrefined and unfashionable. Too  _ Elphaba _ . Even Fiyero asks if there are any catalogues she could look at for inspiration, tells her that maybe they should go back to stationery and home furnishings or something next week, because we all have our strengths - and that’s when Elphaba sees the silver lining.

“Hey, I really need your help.”

“Oh, I thought you’d never ask,” Galinda says from her bed, not looking up from her nails as they dry. Her tone has the kind of casual sarcasm that they have developed, a vague self-commentary on Galinda’s own typical eagerness, but once she actually realises what Elphaba has said, she cranes her head, piqued. “Oh, really? What is it?”

Her genuine curiosity puts Elphaba’s heart at ease somehow. It’s an effect too large for a simple reply to have, but Elphaba can think about it later. She dumps the pile of rejected clothing on the carpet and gestures helplessly towards it. “We have to upcycle these clothes. Can’t sell a thing.” 

Galinda looks at her darkly. “You know I can’t, Elphie…” The silence strains and Elphaba winces, but then Galinda continues with a pronounced breath. “Your magic, I mean - you’ll be so much better than me,” she chokes out, diplomatically.

“Yeah, I know,” Elphaba replies evenly, despite the way that Galinda’s effort makes her fist curl with sympathy. “But, I mean, I’m hoping your fashion sense can cancel out... mine.” And she’s not kidding when she says, “I really - I  _ can’t  _ seem to do this. Please just work with me.”

After a second, Galinda fairly leaps from the bed. She rummages through the pile, and Elphaba experiences a most curious, stupefying moment of elation to see her expression caught between utter disrelish and pity. She can’t even muster a smile, but her heart beats hard at the sight of Galinda’s face now written with such intent concern and determination.

“Oh, Elphie…” Her head snaps up, stern, and she holds out her hand rather sweetly. “We have  _ so  _ much work to do.” 

Suddenly, Elphaba can't imagine a more appealing evening.


End file.
